Mateo’s hardness pressed against his when he rocked his hips forward, the need between them molten and undeniable. It was heaven. Joy. Pure bliss.

Then Mateo ripped himself away, stumbling backward a step. “Fuck,” he gasped as they stared at each other, chests heaving. “Fuck.” He spun on his heel and bolted along the length of the deck and down the stairs.

“Mateo—” was the only word Archer could force from his lips, head swirling, blood long since drained from his brain.

But Mateo was gone, the word sorry echoing with the thumps on the stairs.

Archer blinked at the dark, silent porch. Oh, hell no, he decided and jumped off the railing, running after him. There was no sign of Mateo anywhere—the shoreline was empty, no one on the paths. But he knew where Mateo had gone.

Archer was panting when he arrived at the clearing. Mateo was sitting on the jutting rock, staring out at the lake. He must have heard Archer coming, but he didn’t move.

“You had to come all the way up here?” Archer gasped.

Mateo didn’t respond.

“Mateo,” Archer said softly.

He shook his head, jaw clenched. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean, sorry? That kiss was—”

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

“What are you talking about?”

His voice was flat. “Nothing can happen between us, Archer.”

“Mateo, I don’t—” Words flitted through Archer’s head but refused to come together in any rational way. “Why not?” he asked. From the moment Mateo’s lips touched his, he officially no longer cared that they had to work together, that a breakup might spell disaster. There were only eight days left in the season, and fuck it. He needed more.

“You’re young, you’ve got your whole future ahead of you in New York. You don’t want some washed-up has-been dragging you down.”

Archer shook his head, reeling. “What are you even talking about? First of all, ‘a washed-up has-been’? That’s crazy! You’re made for Broadway! Nothing has changed about that since the first time I laid eyes on you. And as for me, a future in New York—Mateo, I don’t belong there. I’m nothing. I’m going nowhere. I’m an accountant from Ohio!”

Mateo turned to face him, eyes aflame. “Don’t you get it, Archer? You can do anything. Anything. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

A bitter laugh bubbled out. “No one wanted me, Mateo. No one. But you? You’re a fucking star.”

“No one wants me either.”

“But you haven’t even tried!”

Mateo turned back toward the water, shaking his head. “Archer … I’ve seen you dance. I’ve felt you dance. You have what it takes.”

“Then why did I end up here?”